Valentine
by CrimzonChyld
Summary: Post war, while the Malfoy's are social outcasts, Harry reaches out to Draco and they become close friends over the course of three years. When Harry starts dating a muggle, things between them get complicated. SLASH. INDEFINITE HOLD UNTIL I GET A NEW COMPUTER SO I CAN GET THE FIC OFF MY OLD HARD DRIVE.
1. Chess

Valentine

The war was over. There were trials, many of them, but eventually they were over too. In the days and the weeks following the trial, Draco was at a loss of what to do with himself. He had been raised to assume his father's role as a Death Eater. Now Voldemort was dead and gone and the only Death Eaters that were not locked up or under similar punishments as his father were on the run. Draco had no answer on what came next and he was growing increasingly agitated. He had never considered a life without Voldemort. In truth, he had never even considered what he would do to occupy himself with, in between the times he was called upon to do service for the Dark Lord. Now he was set adrift.

Going out in public wasn't an enjoyable experience. Once people made way for the members of the Malfoy household, they were a powerful and a respected family. Now, they were the objects of scorn and ridicule. Draco didn't know which was worse, the people who whispered to one another as he passed, the looks of loathing, or the people that made out right death threats. There had even been one or two missed hexes.

Draco spent most of his days questioning his very existence. It was on one of those days, a Sunday, that the house-elf Kori came to the library where he was lounging. She informed him that there was a Mr. Potter at the door asking to see Master Draco. Blinking in surprise, Draco closed the book he was reading with a snap.

Figuring there was only one way to find out what in Merlin's name Potter was doing there and what he wanted, he sighed and got to his feet.

"Show him to the parlor, Kori."

An odd feeling seemed to take up root in Draco as he headed toward the sitting room. He supposed he was just glad that he had a distraction from the insipid monotony that was quickly becoming his life.

Pausing at the entrance to the parlor, Draco drew himself up, straitening his robes, running a hand through his hair. He told himself that he needed to look sure of himself before facing his former school nemesis. Taking a deep breath he opened the French doors and stepped inside.

As Draco stepped into the room Harry turned his head. He was standing by the fireplace, only half turned towards it. It was late September and a low fire burned taking the chill from the air. While Potter didn't look completely comfortable, he looked much too relaxed being in Malfoy Manor considering his last experience here. Draco's eyes swept the room and in particular the mantel above the fireplace. A habitual impulse to take stock of any incriminating objects that may be in the room. The reflex was unnecessary, the last ministry raid just after the war had cleaned out anything that could even could be conceived as a dark object. Draco was surprised they had left the knives in the kitchen.

Draco pulled himself up to his full height which was only three or four inches taller than the Gryffindor. Eyeing the dark haired boy warily he exuded the haughty disdain that was customary.

"Malfoy." Potter nodded by way of greeting.

"Potter," Draco drawled, "to what do I owe this . . ." he smirked. "Well, I can't say pleasure, and it's certainly not an honor, so I guess intrusion will have to do."

With a frown, Potter reached into his robes.

"I have something for you."

Draco's eyebrows shot up, loosing his composure for an instance before regaining it again and swaggering toward the slightly shorter man. "For me, Potter? You shouldn't have." He responded acerbically.

Rolling his eyes, Potter withdrew a long thin package. "Actually I did." He offered it to Draco. "It's yours already. Your wand that is."

Gazing at the package nonplussed for a moment, the blond finally plucked it from the other's hand. "Oh." Then he scowled at his short and inarticulate response.

Potter merely shrugged.

"There was no reason for you not to have it. I certainly didn't want to keep it. Did you buy a new one?"

Turning away, Draco freed the wand from the package, staring at it for a moment. He wondered if it would work the same way now that it supposedly had changed loyalties. Whatever that meant. Expecting he would find out soon enough, Draco tucked it into his robes and walked away again. He needed to put some distance between himself and Potter to reclaim his equilibrium.

"No. You didn't have to bring it, you could have had it delivered."

"I know," Potter's voice sounded nervous, "I guess I just wanted to . . ."

"Wanted to _what_, Potter?" said Draco with a bitter edge in his voice. "Wanted to come and see for yourself how my family is doing being treated like pariahs now that the war is over? How my father is doing without magic?" he sneered, turning around. "Or maybe you just wanted to come and boast your own victory. Perhaps even remind me that I now owe you a life debt. Oh, I am well aware of _that_."

Potter's eyes widened and he shook his head bewildered.

"No, no, that's not why at all. I just . . . I don't know," he splayed out his hands before him, "I guess I did want to see how you were, Malfoy. To see if you needed anything?"

The sudden anger that had seized Draco ebbed slightly, though the comment should have made him even more furious. He suddenly felt very tired. Not to mention abashed at showing his weakness.

"What in Merlin's name would I need from you, Potter?" he sighed.

Shrugging again, Potter's gaze dropped to the floor. Draco wished Potter would just leave. While he was craving human contact and some one to confide, in that person was definitely not Potter. Draco didn't know him and didn't trust him. They weren't friends and never would be. He didn't know why Potter was hanging around and figured it had to be some sort of noble Gryffindor thing. Helping other people even when they didn't even deserve it. Like Potter saving him in the Room of Requirement. Draco grimaced and tried to decide on the most cutting remark to send the Gryffindor on his way.

Unfortunately, Potter started talking again.

"How _is_ your father?"

Incredulous, Draco stared at Harry before giving a mirthless laugh.

"Like you give a damn about my father."

Potter bit his lower lip.

"I know it can't be easy."

"You don't know _anything_, Potter." Draco spoke slowly, his voice low and deadly. "You have no idea what it's like. Since the Ministry bound Father's magic, he drinks himself into a stupor, staring into space, barely communicating with anyone. That's on his good days. On his bad days, he starts hurling objects and screaming suicide threats. Mother . . . Mother just starts sobbing and begs him to calm down. I've never seen her in such a state. And me? Well, I now have no future. Nothing to do with the rest of my life but rot with my parents in the catacomb that is my home."

Draco inwardly cursed himself. For the second time in a matter of minutes, he had lost his composure and he was certainly not a man that was accustomed to showing his vulnerability. He wasn't sure what made him suddenly confess what he was feeling to Harry Potter of all people. Perhaps it was a testament to how isolated he really was now. His father was slowly going mad and his mother was overly concerned with his father. She adored Draco, that was true, but there was nothing she could do to help him with the particular problems he faced. He didn't have anyone to talk to nothing to do with his time and the hopelessness of his situation was starting to stifle him. Draco assumed that the dam that held his resentment and frustration at bay was cracking.

Potter looked thoughtful for a moment.

"What about your friends?"

"Slytherins don't have friends. They build alliances with the right families," Draco said scathingly, "and my family doesn't count for shit anymore."

"I'm sorry," said Potter, softly.

Draco shot him a dubious look.

"I'm not sorry that Lucius is being punished." he amended. "I am sorry for what you and your mother have to go through. I truly am."

Sighing, Draco lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "You hate me, Potter, you have always hated me . . ."

"No." Potter interrupted shaking his head. "I never hated you. I though you were an annoying, infuriating, selfish prat and I didn't like you most of the time," He gave Draco a lopsided smile. "but I never hated you."

"High praise," replied Draco derisively.

Of course, it didn't really matter, Draco hated Potter.

Actually, if he was honest with himself, he didn't necessarily _hate_ Harry Potter. Draco hated how the Gryffindor got so much special attention. He knew that Potter didn't want it, he bitched about it often enough, but it didn't change the fact that he got attention, fame, and most of all seemed to get out of any trouble. It wasn't jealousy, it was just plain irritating.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco squeezed his eyes shut.

"Why are you here, Potter?" he opened his eyes to glare at the other man.

Potter's eyes darted around the room coming to rest on the chessboard in the corner of the room.

"Do you play?"

Draco's head snapped towards him. "What?"

Potter gestured to the board.

"Do you play? Chess I mean."

Shaking his head, Draco managed a weak humorless chuckle.

"You can't be serious."

"Well," Potter's lips quirked up in a small smile while heading towards the parlor door, preparing to leave at last, "I just wondered how your chess skills measured up to your Quidditch skills." Reaching Draco, he spared him a glance as he passed him. "Then again, I always beat you at Quidditch, so why would chess be any different?"

It was a deliberate provocation and they both knew it. It didn't matter though. Neither of them could ever back down from a challenge. This was something they both knew as well.

Potter had reached the door of the parlor when Draco spoke up.

"Hold it, Potter."

Turning slowly, the Gryffindor raised and inquiring eyebrow.

"Yes, Malfoy?"

Draco contemplated him for a seemingly long moment, his eyes narrowed in distrust before answering.

"One game."

"Right." Potter smiled.

The one game became two. Potter was a fair chess player having played against Ronald Weasly for so long but Draco was better. Draco let himself get lazy after his first victory and lost the second game. There was a third game to break the tie. They spoke little. Potter inquired about the house-elf. Draco explained his mother had bought her shortly after they returned home after the trials. Potter warned him to treat this one right. Draco asked about Potter's plans to become an Auror, as everyone said he was aiming to be. Potter shook his head and mumbled he was tired of fighting dark wizards.

After Draco successfully crushed him in the third game, Potter rose to his feet and stretched.

"I guess I should be going." He said, something close to reluctance in his voice.

Looking up, Draco nodded and started putting away the pieces.

"I trust you can see yourself out."

"Yeah . . . um, I guess I'll see you around then."

"Guess so," said Draco solemnly.

Walking to the parlor door again, Potter looked back.

"Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Goodnight, Potter." Draco watched him leave, a feeling he wouldn't dare identify as disappointment spreading through him.

After a few moments, he stared at the now empty board in front of him. He had to admit that the afternoon had been one of the most enjoyable ones he'd had in longer then he could remember. All because of Harry, bloody, Potter. It was a bit of a tease really. One good afternoon to show him how it could be if he actually had a friend. Now, somehow, the manor felt emptier than it had been only that morning. Draco felt even more alone because of it. In a way, Harry's presence had made things worse. It was always better when you didn't know what you were missing.

Two Sundays later, Harry was back.

"Forgot something, Potter?" drawled Malfoy stepping once again into the parlor.

Harry was back by the fireplace again. He looked up at the sound of Malfoy's voice with a sort of half-smile and shook his head.

"Not at all, I was just in the neighborhood?" He winced when he realized his answer sounded more like a question.

"In the neighborhood?" Malfoy smirked. "Even for you that's a pitiful lie. What are you here for this time?"

Heaving a sigh, Harry shrugged. "I don't really know. I just . . . felt like coming by."

That was the truth, though Harry wasn't certain why he was feeling a compulsion to come here. He'd fought it at first. Harry tried to find other ways to occupy his days. He had spent most of his time trying to make Grimmauld Place livable, which was keeping his mind off what Malfoy was up to. It was none of his business and he didn't know why in Merlin's name he even cared.

Unfortunately, at night, when he went to sleep, his mind tended to wander off the house that needed repair and before he knew it his brain had formed more than one excuse to go see Malfoy. The last couple of nights his wayward mind even started setting up scenarios of "running into" the blond man, somehow. He chose to ignore exactly where his thoughts went from there.

Harry figured the only way to quell the need to see Malfoy was to visit him. For all he knew, he might just get a reminder of how much of a jerk Malfoy is and how annoying he had always been.

"Checking up on my family again?" asked Malfoy leaning on the door frame curling his lip contemptuously. "Or were you just feeling sorry for poor Draco Malfoy, lamenting in his house with a father slowly going mad?"

Harry was quite proud of himself for rolling his eyes and not shooting back an angry retort. Clearly, Malfoy was on the defensive. Even though going back to a childish argument would probably have made them both feel better, it was, after all, something they were accustomed to, it wasn't going to do any good in the long term.

Harry responded, speaking quietly and evenly. "No. Nothing like that. I thought. Well, I had a good time when we played chess. I though you did too. I was wondering if you wanted to play again?"

Malfoy swaggered into the room, pompousness and arrogance radiating from him.

"All this way for a friendly game of chess? I don't think so." he came nose to nose with Harry. "Why. Are. You. Here?"

There was no threat in the Slytherin's voice, just a quiet determination. Harry stared up into those gray eyes. He wanted to tell Malfoy the truth, if only he knew what the truth was. Harry decided that he should just say the first thing that popped into his head as his wayward thoughts were primarily responsible for bringing him to this point anyway.

"You make me feel normal," said Harry, his eyes widening a bit as he realized it was the truth.

Apparently, the truth surprised Malfoy as well. He stepped back fixing Harry with a quizzical look.

"What?"

"You make me feel normal." Harry's voice was stronger and surer now as some of the pieces fell into place, letting him finally understand the draw. "I can't really go out very much either. Not in the wizarding world at least. People are always stopping me, wanting to talk, to thank me, taking pictures."

"Oh well, then break out the violins, Potter." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "How very horrible it must be for you."

"Let me finish!" snapped Harry. "I am aware it isn't the same thing for you. It's not something that I'm comfortable with and not something I wanted. There aren't many people in the wizarding world that think of me as 'just Harry'. Ron and Hermione do but they're obviously going to start building a life together even if they don't really know it yet. Mrs. Weasley fusses and it's only gotten worse since Fred died, I guess she deals with her grief by over compensating with everyone else. Ginny and Luna are back at Hogwarts this year. Neville has started apprenticing for Professor Sprout. I'm only . . ."

Harry stopped, he had been unaware how much he had been holding in and it was a shock to him.

"So that's it?" scoffed Malfoy. "Everyone else is off and leaving their precious champion behind. I can't say I'm surprised though." He shrugged. Only an elegant roll of his shoulders. "I could have told you it would have happened sooner or later. Once they don't need you, they don't care anymore. They move on with their lives."

"That's just it." Harry shook his head. "Everyone _is_ moving on. I'm just sort of stuck where I am. I'm still at Grimmauld Place. I still don't know what to do with my life. Then there was you . . ." He trailed off.

Malfoy scowled.

"I am well aware that I'm not going on with my life, Potter. I'm not here for your entertainment. I'm not going to be used just so you have 'something to do'. It may have escaped your attention but I am a human being and I do have-"

"Feelings?" Harry cut him off with a small, sad smile. "I know, Draco."

Again, silence hung over them. Both of them a bit startled, whether by Malfoy's admission of being a mere mortal or Harry actually calling him by his given name, it wasn't clear.

It felt like hours until, finally, Harry cleared his throat. He figured he was in deep enough.

"I think a part of me always thought you would be there, like Hermione, like Ron. Hermione, besides being a girl is too practical. Ron is too laid back. You always pushed me. You kept challenging me. I needed that, I still do, I guess that's why I keep coming back. Even if some day we are able to move forward and live our own lives again. I still need some one to push me."

"You were the only one to push back." Malfoy almost smiled. Another moment past and he sighed. "Well, I guess I really don't have anything better to do. Shall we get on with it then?"

So began the Sunday ritual. At first, even with so many confessions, they still didn't talk much. When they did talk, they kept to safe subjects. Quidditch, rumors about Harry. Harry didn't like to talk about press that concerned him. That's why the Slytherin brought it up over and over.

Draco didn't like to be reminded of the times that Potter beat him at Quidditch. That's why Potter talked about it again and again. Slowly, a tentative friendship began to form. They found that with out the expectations of school, of other people, of society itself, it was remarkably easy to get along.


	2. Lucius

**My apologies for this update being so long in coming. I didn't have a computer for a couple of months (long story, not interesting). I finally got it back and I edited the second chapter and sent it to my beta editor. She's one of three, she's the first one that tears up my first copy of a chapter before sending it back to me telling me to FIX IT! So she's been on hiatus with vaca/hols and been very busy with other things so I've not heard back from her about my edited version of chapter two. I wanted those people who have wanted to know SO BAD what was up with this story (especially to the one who yelled at me to finish it ^^ which I loved because it meant you were interested in my tale) to know that I'm still working on it and that I am SO not one of those people that just start a story and then just leave it unfinished. I personally HATE that, so I would never do it. So, as for this chapter, it's probably going to be edited at some point when my beta is ready to look at it again. So I'm sorry it took so long and I'm sorry that I don't know when I'm going to finally get a chapter 3 done but just know that I AM working on it and I hope y'all will have patience with me.**

**I do not own anything in the HP universe and I make no money from this work.**

**R&R  
**

In early December, Draco sat in the solarium facing the gardens and watching the falling snow. It was time for afternoon tea and he was waiting for his mother. His father rarely made appearances at tea and meal times. In the past, Lucius had been very strict about such practices. They took meals and tea as a family unless, of course, Father had business. Apparently, business was more important than family. During the last two turbulent years the tradition had come to an end. Draco's mother was valiantly trying to restore the custom. He assumed she was attempting to bring about some normality in their lives that had since been lost.

Narcissa entered the room, her blond hair cascading down her back, fluent as water, and she smiled at her son.

Draco stood. "Mother." He held his hand out to her. She glided across the room in her usual elegant manner and clasped his hand briefly before settling delicately into a chair situated around the tiny tea table. Once she was seated Draco took the chair opposite her. He always admired her grace and sophistication. As a child he had spent a great deal of time with his mother, as Father was so busy, and thus learned his gracefulness from her. As Kori brought in the tea tray Narcissa addressed her son.

"Draco, would you please go up to your father's room and ask him to join us?"

Draco looked at her sharply.

"Why?" The few times that Lucius had joined them for mealtimes he had only had more alcohol than food and his continued self mutterings had been very disconcerting. The tension in the atmosphere had been palpable. His mother fussed with the teacups.

"He wasn't feeling well and was having a lie down. I want you to go and see if he's well enough to join us."

Wasn't feeling well, Draco knew, was a code for completely pissed.

"Mother, I think if he's not feeling well we should just let him rest. I don't think Father should be disturbed."

"Don't be silly, Draco." Narcissa smiled, though it seemed a bit strained. "Just go up and ask him to have tea with his family. If he's not feeling up to it he is more than capable of refusing."

"I'd rather not," mumbled Draco sullenly. Narcissa folded her hands in her lap and went very still, fixing Draco with such a firm look that he immediately dropped his eyes.

"Draco, I have been trying to hold my family together for over two years. I know things have been difficult, especially for your father. His house arrest alone has been troublesome enough for him even without the additional constrainment. I have been doing my best to assist him in adjusting to his new life but I cannot do it alone. I need help. I need _your_ help, Draco. If we're going to get your father through this we need to work together." Draco darted his eyes up to his mother once more and took in her appearance. She had started looking better recently, her eyes were not red rimmed and she wasn't as paper white and frail looking as she had been. She still looked very tired though. Pale circles showed under her eyes and her face was beginning to look noticeably careworn. Faint worry lines, that had not previously been present, were becoming etched into her forehead. There was a pain in her blue eyes that Draco had never seen before and he dropped his eyes once more.

"Yes, Mother." Contrite, he nodded before standing and swiftly leaving the room.

When Lucius' drunken rages started, they were frightening. Narcissa, unafraid of her husband, kept trying different ways to calm him down. Draco, now, avoided Lucius completely when he could. When his father flew into another one of his rages, however, he kept close by, out of sight. He would not leave his mother alone with him. It was likely an unnecessary gesture. Lucius' magic was bound, he couldn't use it even involuntarily. But he could not, would not, leave Father alone with her. If he tried to hurt Mother, Draco would do whatever was necessary to protect her.

When Draco reached his father's bedroom, he paused and knocked softly on the door. After he received no answer, he knocked louder. He considered returning to the solarium and telling his mother that Father had declined coming to tea. Though, in the interest of pleasing his mother he thought it would only be appropriate to get a response from Lucius. Trying the door handle, he found it to be unlocked and he pushed it open, cautiously poking his head inside.

The interior of the room was very dark and Draco took out his wand and waved the draperies open to let in the waning afternoon light. On the other side of the room he saw a lump, in his father's bed that he assumed was Lucius.

"Father?" called Draco. As expected, there was no response and Draco rolled his eyes and strolled up to the bed. His father was sprawled on one side of the bed tangled in blankets and sheets amidst a mass of pillows. He lay, face down his face pressed into one of the lush pillows, snoring very softly and, upon closer inspection, drooling onto the pillowcase. Disgusted, Draco leaned over, reached out a hand and poked Lucius' shoulder.

"Father," then he shook it, hard. "Father!" Lucius slept on. Annoyed, Draco was on the verge of leaving when a wonderfully malicious idea came to him. Smiling serenely, he plucked up two pillows, laid them side by side on the bed and pulled out his wand. He then transfigured them into two very large brass cymbals. Picking the newly transfigured items up, he spared his father another contemptuous glance. "Last chance." He smiled wickedly. In the past, Draco would have never dreamed of disrespecting his father. In fact his feelings toward Lucius were more like hero-worship. Much like many idols, he had fallen far from the pedestal his son had placed him upon.

Getting no reaction from the sleeping lump, Draco shrugged and brought the cymbals together with a mighty crash. Lucius shot up in bed with a yell, clutching his head. Draco dropped the offending instruments back on the bed, quickly transformed them back into pillows and pocketed his wand again.

"Oh, good!" Draco smirked. "You're awake."

Lucius looked blearily around at his son. "What are you doing here?"

Draco tilted his chin up. "Mother asked me to fetch you for afternoon tea. Though, I can see for myself you're still 'not feeling well' as she put it. Shall I extend your regrets?" Lucius waved a dismissive hand at Draco.

"I don't care what you do." He said, his voice was raspy, then he looked at his son suspiciously. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes Draco responded.

"I'm not in school, Father."

"Is it summer?" He squinted at the windows that revealed the snow still falling. "Or Christmas?"

Draco sighed. "No, Father. I'm eighteen, I don't go to school anymore."

Lucius scrubbed at his face. "Aren't you married yet?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"Well, for some reason most parents don't want their daughters associated with the Malfoy family anymore. To tell you the truth, though, I think it has less to do with the whole, 'Death Eater Thing' and more to do with the, 'Drunken Father Thing'."

"Hold your tongue, boy." Lucius growled. Draco raised a brow. After a moment, Lucius yawned and plopped back onto the pillows again.

Glaring at the inert form of his father, Draco took a moment to really look at the man. The months of drinking and madness were taking its toll. His hair was stringy and dirty. There was several a days' growth of beard on his face. Lucius looked thinner, almost gaunt. Not surprising really, he rarely ate. He looked so much older than Draco could ever remember, lines of weariness etched in his face.

Draco realized he was clenching his wand, which was still in his pocket, tightly in his hand. He thought about what would happen if he cursed his father. Not just cause him pain either, something that would kill him. It would almost be doing him a favor, really. He screamed about killing himself all the time. Draco wondered what the Ministry would do. If they would make all that much fuss about a dead Death Eater, former or not. Draco could claim it was an accident, or better yet, claim it was self-defense. There was the problem of Veritaserum but perhaps the Ministry probably wouldn't care too much.

Draco started with the sudden horrid realization of what he was contemplating. He released his wand, jerked his hands out of his pockets and backed away from the bed. He was angry with Lucius but until now he hadn't realized his resentment was so deep that he would actually consider killing him. Feeling distinctly ill, he quickly left the room. Closing the door behind him, he sagged against it for a moment in relief.

Heading back downstairs, Draco's only regret was of disappointing Narcissa in failing to convince Lucius to come to tea.

In late January, during a second game of chess with Malfoy there was shouting from somewhere in the house accompanied by the sound of something breaking. Harry looked towards the door startled and only just managed not to whip out his wand and go investigate.

"Your move," Malfoy said in a bored voice.

"What's going on?" Asked Harry slowly, looking back towards the blond. Malfoy shrugged.

"Sounds like father is having a bad day . . . your move."

"Does he always get like that?" Harry asked, thinking the Slytherin looked remarkable unconcerned, though his posture was tense.

"No. Sometimes he gets _really_ upset," sighed Malfoy. The tirade continued and started to get closer. Malfoy scowled in the direction of the noise.

"Bound to happen eventually." He muttered, more to himself than to Harry. When the shouting started getting closer and seemed to be heading in the direction of the parlor, Malfoy closed his eyes and shook his head. "Obviously."

In the next instant, the French doors were flung open wide and a manic looking Lucius barged in. The Gryffindor's instincts kicked in again and he stood up, wand out ready to battle.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Lucius hissed, though his eyes seemed unfocused. Harry continued to shoot looks between father and son, unsure of what to do. While Lucius was acting manic, Malfoy seemed detached from the situation. As though he was merely observing the scene before him and not a part of it.

Still looking dispassionate, Malfoy responded. "We _were_ trying to play a quiet game of chess until some inebriated, ill tempered, ex-aristocrat came barging in on us."

Lucius whipped out what Harry thought for one crazy moment was a wand. It wasn't though; it was just a piece of a tree branch. It would have been amusing if it hadn't been so pathetic.

"Get out of my house, Potter!" Lucius bellowed, looking truly deranged. Malfoy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Oh for . . . Father, that's a _stick_!" Fortunately, Narcissa ran into the room at that instant. She placed a hand on Lucius' arm, speaking quickly in a low soothing tone, apparently trying to lead him out of the room. Harry stashed away his wand feeling like an intruder and looked at Malfoy, who was now staring into the fire looking disgusted, his cheeks stained pink. He looked as if he wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

"Draco, maybe you should see Potter out, you can finish your game later." Narcissa said calmly, still trying to get Lucius to settle down. "At least get him out of this room, he's upsetting your father." Even though Harry had never seen Narcissa in the time he spent in Malfoy Manor, she evidently knew of the afternoons he spent there.

A glowering, grumbling, Malfoy pushed back his chair and, motioning to Harry to follow left the room, giving his father a wide berth.

Once they were safely out of the parlor Malfoy lead the way to a hallway and leaned against the wall, putting his foot against it and crossing his arms. They were still in view of the parlor and Malfoy was studying the French doors intently. Harry leaned against the opposite wall, hands behind his back. He wasn't sure what to do. Clearly, Malfoy was upset but Harry didn't know how to convey his understanding.

"Malfoy?" Began Harry, tentatively.

"Quiet." He whispered and Harry fell silent.

After a moment they saw Narcissa leave the parlor and close the doors behind her. She smoothed a hand down her robes and lifted her head high before heading up the stairs and out of sight. Malfoy's body language seemed to relax slightly. Taking a deep breath, he spoke.

"I apologize for my father." The blond addressed his shoes. "Maybe you should go."

"Is that what you want?" Harry bit his lip. Despite what had just transpired he didn't really want to leave, not when Malfoy was so troubled. The blond leaned his head back against the wall, looking at the ceiling. He seemed to be avoiding Harry's gaze.

"I don't know." He sighed. Harry continued chewing on his lip and tried to put himself in Malfoy's shoes. He looked mortified to have Harry witness his father's outburst. Normally, Harry would try and comfort and sympathize, show understanding. However, this was Malfoy and he probably didn't react well to sympathy.

Harry didn't want to leave. He didn't want Malfoy to push him away when he needed some one the most. He had to make the Slytherin see that Harry could be there, not out of pity, but out of friendship. Well, they weren't exactly _friends_ now but they could be. There was a part of Harry that wanted to show the blond that true friendship wasn't conditional. He didn't know precisely why this was important to him, but it was and he didn't question it. After thinking on it for a few minutes, Harry smiled slightly, knowing that his idea would probably work. It always worked on Malfoy.

"Well, we could continue the game in another room. I'll understand if you want me to leave though." He gave Malfoy a small, too innocent smile. "After all, I _was_ winning."

Narrowing his eyes down at Harry, the blond frowned. "Have you taken a delusional potion? I had you right were I wanted you and you know it." Harry just shrugged.

Malfoy gave him a calculating look. Harry knew that the Slytherin could see right through him and knew exactly what he was trying to do, not that it mattered. Donning his previous attitude of unconcern, Draco pushed himself off the wall.

"Right. We'll finish the game then." Harry smiled and gave a nod.

"Kori." Malfoy called. There was a crack of displaced air as the house-elf appeared.

"Yes, Master Draco?"

"Bring the chess board in the parlor to my rooms." He told the elf. "Don't disturb any of the pieces."

"Yes, Master Draco." With another crack, Kori was gone. Harry ignored the tiny flip his stomach did when Malfoy mentioned his rooms. Wait . . . _rooms_ . . . as in multiple? He must have heard that wrong.

"Come on." Malfoy said moving down the hall once more.

After following Malfoy down the seemingly endless corridor, it occurred to Harry that he had never seen more of the house than the foyer, the parlor and a powder room just off to the side of the parlor. Well, he'd seen a part of the cellar a while ago but he preferred to not think about that. Just when Harry though he should probably pay closer attention to his surroundings, Malfoy reached a door at the end of the hall they were in. Opening it, he ushered Harry in and closed it behind them.

Looking around Harry saw what appeared to be another sitting room. It was only slightly smaller then that of the main parlor. It had a fireplace, chairs, a settee, the entire wall opposite the fire was a row of very large windows. The chessboard was already in place in front of the fire, chairs in place, but Harry saw another set astride the fireplace. The mantel above the fireplace was littered with framed photographs. Above the mantel showed a large family portrait. Lucius, Narcissa and Draco looked out of the framed painting, chins tilted up in haughty disdain. When the portrait Lucius caught sight of Harry, it scowled at him.

"This is your room?" Harry asked, turning to look at him, trying to sound neutral. The whole second floor of Number 4 Privet Drive with its four bedrooms and one bath could have fit inside this room. Nodding Malfoy looked around.

"It's the front room at least."

Harry blinked, "Front room?"

Malfoy smirked and jerked his head towards the three other doors in the room.

"Oh, right . . . front room." Shaking his head, Harry didn't know why he should be surprised. After that day, the two continued to play in Malfoy's room. Harry suspected that Malfoy's father probably rarely came into in son's rooms and that is why they kept playing there. He also assumed that Malfoy was hoping that Lucius would not make a spectacle of himself either.


	3. Not Really A Chapter

Oh, I'm sorry, yeah, I'm doing that thing were it's not really a new chapter it's just an update. I know, I suck. Okay, so here's the thing, I pestered my beta for MONTHS and then she finally gets back to me telling me that she's too busy now with what's going on in her life and that's fine, really, I mean I'm disappointed and all but hey, I get it. I've still got a story to write and I'll do it to the best of my ability and it probably won't be as good as it could have been but I'll do my best, right? So I start trying to work on the old chapters I have and hammer out the details, make the relevant and then what happens? My video card crashes. So now, whilst I still have a couple of laptops to work on, the old chapters that I need to work on are on my old hard drive and the only way to get that information is to put my hard drive into my bf's computer then upload it onto the external hard drive and then download it to one of these laptops and of course, he never has the time to help me out in that regard, why would he, right? To make matters worse, the laptop I currently has doesn't have a Microsoft works word processor and only has this crappy word pad THING. Okay, so I'm still trying to work things out and like I said, I do not abandon stories and I really didn't think it would take over a year to write this thing but what a crazy adventure this is! Plus now we're trying to get ready to move but I SWEAR I'm working on this story, and some other side things too, actually I was almost done with a one shot when my video card crashed and that is ALSO just on my hard drive, GRRR. I'm really sorry you guys, I'll try to get SOMETHING up soon! Promise!

CC


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